


A Mess of Evidence

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: House Cleaning, M/M, Masturbation, Photographs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank cleans up a mess, which leads to a interesting situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mess of Evidence

The basic truth of it is that it never would have happened had Gerard not been the messiest motherfucker Frank has ever met. Frank’s not really one for mess, he’s the only one on the bus to try to keep a garbage bag behind the couch so that cans and crumpled papers aren’t everywhere. Which are recyclable, and sometimes he gets minutes of guilt from tossing the entire bag into a dumpster on their umpteenth McDonalds stop, but really, you can only go so far. When he visits everyone’s apartments he finds himself sorting through CDs, tossing week old newspapers. He doesn’t know why they all have a subscription when none of them get their news from anywhere but online.

So he’s at Mikey and Gerard’s place, and there are take out cartons everywhere. Frank doesn’t know how it’s possible, he’s only not seen them a week. To accumulate this many they’ve had to have had Chinese for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. Even then it would still be a low amount. It leads Frank again to his favourite theory, filth spawns more filth.

He’s not even sure if they’re home. It doesn’t matter, only one of the keys on his keyring is for his own apartment. Frank has the ability to walk into about fifteen places uninvited. He grabs a garbage bag -thank God he brought some over the last time, otherwise he’d be making giant piles and trying to carry it all to the dumpster outside balanced precariously in his arms- and starts chucking all the cartons in. Under the cartons are layers of paper, which he has to be more careful with. If he throws out any sketches, or any one line lyrics written on torn out sheets from the phone book, Gerard will kill him.

He picks through the debris carefully, tossing stuff that’s obvious garbage, like opened and leaking packets of ketchup, dividing the other stuff into piles of ‘definitely important’ (any and all drawings) and ‘possibly meaningful’ (phone numbers scrawled onto napkins without any name above them. And seriously, napkins? Both Ways have a cellphone. Everyone in the world has a cellphone, who writes down numbers these days?)

His cleaning stops when he comes across a photograph. It’s one of those old school kind, the perfectly square ones with the harder strip of white along the bottom. The kind that you’re supposed to shake to get the picture to appear faster. Frank hasn’t seen that type of camera in years, but it doesn’t surprise him that the Ways have one. Gerard’s got a thing for buying random crap at thrift stores, and Mikey has a known penchant for vintage stuff. He flips it over and stares at it for a minute. And then stares at it for a minute more.

It’s Mikey and Gerard, kissing. Not like some of the shit that’s been photographed of them by certain media, arms curled around shoulders on stage, faces pressed close. Frank’s done Projekt Revolution, he knows damn well stage shit doesn’t mean anything except thrill the fans. This is real Mikey and real Gerard kissing, Gerard wearing one of his white-stained-tan shirts, Mikey in a black-washed-to-gray shirt, the logo obscured by how he’s pressed against Gerard. They’re kissing, and they mean it, and it’s at an awkward Myspace angle because one of them is obviously holding the camera far above their heads to get everything in the shot. Behind them is a snatch of blue. Frank knows that blue, it’s Gerard’s spaceman sheets. It’s hard to get interesting sheets for a queen bed, but Gerard knows what to spend his money on.

Frank knows it says something about him that after he stops looking at it to figure out what’s gone on, he continues to look at it to figure out when and how. He stares at it until it almost comes alive in his head. Then he stomps into Gerard’s room and flops down on the blue patterned sheets. He closes his eyes and imagines Mikey and Gerard going at it like drunk teens at a party, Mikey sitting on Gerard’s lap, both his knees curled around Gerard’s back. He bites at his lip and opens his jeans.

Frank’s the sort that after he comes he drifts off. Of course, he’s also a light sleeper -which is hell on tour- so he wakes to the front door opening. He doesn’t bother to tuck himself back into his jeans or wipe the come off his hand. So maybe getting off in one of his best friends’ beds is wrong. They’ll hardly be able to put all the wrong on him.

Gerard enters the room, obviously intent on curling up with his reading material. Frank recognizes the plastic bag as the local comic store, and mentally calculates that _yes_ , it _is_ Thursday. Of course that’s where they were. The bag drops to the floor as Gerard takes in the image of Frank sprawled out and debauched on his bed. And like Mikey is some sort of superhero with the power to hear when comics are being abused, he comes into the room. Or, makes it through the doorway before stopping to stare.

Frank looks back at both of them for a second before rolling his eyes. Of course he has to be the one to speak. “You guys were making out. You should do that again.”

“What?”

“In that picture. You were making out. I want to see.” Yeah, it definitely says something about him. But he doesn’t much care, not when Gerard looks at Mikey and shrugs, and Mikey takes a few steps forward into the room. Mikey only has to bend down an inch or two to kiss Gerard, and _shit_ seeing it live is amazing. Enough to make his hand drift back to his cock. The movement makes the dried come on his fingers start to flake off.

“Frankie,” Gerard grits out. From the position they’re in, Mikey’s back to him, Frank can’t see for sure, but he’s pretty sure the movement of Mikey’s elbow means he’s groping Gerard.

“What? I’m not gonna not do it.” What does it matter if he’s jerking off to Mikey and Gerard making out? It’s not like they’re going to get each other pregnant.

The next thing he knows Mikey is stumbling backwards, like Gerard pushed him. He walks around the bed to sit on the pile of covers cross-legged, and stretches out his arm. He touches Frank’s cock lightly, just fingertips on the head. Frank arches up, but Gerard moves his hand with him, so it’s never more than just fingertips.

“Gerard,” he whines. Gerard just smiles. Frank turns his head to look at Mikey. “Your brother is a fucking tease.”

“I don’t think the fucking is the problem,” Mikey replies with a smirk. He crosses the room to sit beside Gerard, and it’s Mikey’s hand curled around his shaft, Gerard’s fingers on his head, Gerard’s tongue in Mikey’s mouth. Frank’s not sure how this is real, but he arches into their touch and doesn’t take his eyes away from their mouths. He’s pretty sure this is a once in a lifetime situation, he’s not even going to blink until it’s done.

He grunts as he comes for the second time in a few hours. Gerard moves his wet hand and smears it over the bedspread. Somehow Frank is not surprised.


End file.
